Some Days

Some days I drink honeyed lemon and eat some chocolate-y ice cream;

wrap myself in little human burritos and curl myself to sleep.

I wear a smile and let out my laughs,

I swear those days your jokes sound the funniest.

Some days I drink bitter coffee and eat some spicy nachos;

work in consecutive hours and study myself to oblivion.

I wear the first blouse that comes out of the closet and the first sweatpants I see,

and on those days I cry the loudest with my heart out on my sleeve.

I just wanted to tell you that some days it’s all about me.

But on most days it’s all about you.

How you aced your responsibilities,

and how you threw that cynicism of yours around,

and how you bought your daily caffeine then talked about me.

But on most days it’s all about you.

– a.h.


On a very unrelated note: doesn’t it suck to have the people you hang out with daily, doubt you?

” He doesn’t want you to be real, and to think and to live. He doesn’t love you. But I love you. I want you to have your own thoughts and ideas and feelings, even when I hold you in my arms. ” – A Room With A View, E.M. Forster


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